


Bliss

by paintstroke



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Love, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintstroke/pseuds/paintstroke
Summary: Yuuri never thought he'd be able to associate mornings with something like this.





	

Yuuri woke slowly; when his dark eyelashes lifted slowly off his cheeks the world around him was a white, warm, and blurry cocoon.

He stretched and reached out, jamming a hip into the mattress to flop over to his left. He stretched an arm out, just to be sure, as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, but he was alone.  Just an expanse of pale sheets; white and frosty blues painted in warm tones from the sunlight streaming through the vast windows. 

With a yawn he rolled back over. Since Viktor wasn’t there, Yuuri went for his phone holding it close to his nose. No messages, nothing demanding his immediate attention on Instagram. He put the phone back on the nightstand, quickly followed by a familiar clatter; he’d knocked his glasses to the floor again.

Ugh.

  
Mornings. 

With a moan of protest he sat up and headed for the ensuite. 

___

Despite washing his face and brushing his teeth, sleepiness still clung to Yuuri like a second skin. He shuffled out into the apartment. The heated floors were warm beneath his socks. 

Sensations slowly sank into his fuzzy brain. Viktor was clattering around in the kitchen, making something that already smelled amazing.

Makkachin’s tail beat an accompanying tempo to the soft piano music that Viktor had put on. The damp clumps of snow still clinging to Makkachin’s curly furred paws showed that they’d only recently gotten in from a morning walk. 

Yuuri made a slow beeline for the dog, needing to scratch Makkachin’s ears. He resisted the urge to tell the spoiled dog to get off the couch. The tail wagging sped up. Yuuri smiled, and turned to find out what his fiance was up to. 

At first glance, Viktor was looking like a domestic god, platinum in the sunlight and brighter than the chrome that surrounded him.

Still mostly on pre-coffee autopilot, Yuuri padded towards Viktor, drawn in by the lure of the other man. He slipped his arms around his fiance and pressed kisses into Viktor’s shoulder blades through the so-soft sweater draped around his elegant form. 

Viktor’s delighted laugh made Yuuri smile too much; kisses became impossible for a moment, so he just pressed into Viktor’s back, stretching up to kiss his neck when he could. “Dobroe,” Yuuri mumbled, his voice still sleepy and soft in a way that made it easy to roll over the soft Russian syllables. 

Viktor leaned back into Yuuri with a contented “Mmm”. 

He something aside on the counter before he turned, wrapping Yuuri in an enthusiastic hug.  “Ohayo!” Viktor’s arms trapped him there for a moment. It was unfair that Viktor could be so much more awake than him at this hour. His hands trailed lower on Yuuri’s back, tracing lines down over his lower back, lower and lower, Viktor bent slightly so he could run his hands along the top of Yuuri’s thighs. Yuuri gasped as the hands suddenly dug in, and he clutched Viktor’s shoulders for balance as he was lifted and spun up onto the kitchen island. 

The intake of breath drew a responsive purr from Viktor, who pressed himself between Yuuri’s knees and tilted his head up to his darker-haired lover. The kiss was soft and gentle and full of love. Yuuri melted into it, would have happily stayed in the tender kiss forever, but Viktor had other plans and drew away far too soon. “Stay right here,” Viktor said, eyes sparkling as he moved around his kitchen with the grace of someone fully at home wherever he was. 

“What are you making?” Yuuri asked with a stretch and a yawn. 

“Syrniki,” Viktor said, his heart in his smile. 

Yuuri smiled shyly in return. “Syrniki,” he repeated the new word. 

The grin Viktor threw back at Yuuri on hearing the word could light up the room. Yuuri couldn’t stop the answering smile from blossoming over his cheeks, even if he had wanted to. Yuuri kicked his feet lightly against the counter. Another yawn took over. Yuuri’s eyes closed for a moment. 

“Yuuuuuri…” 

Yuuri smiled before opening his eyes, and smiled wider as Viktor pressed a mug into his hands, his ring clicking against the ceramic. “Thank you…” he murmured, leaning forward and catching Viktor with a kiss before the mercurial man could dip away again. 

Yuuri brought the steamy beverage to his nose, and wasn’t sure if his heart could contain the fondness that threatened to overwhelm him. The scent of lemon clung heavy over the black tea and he knew that as soon as he took a sip it would be almost painfully sweet. 

Because that was how Viktor liked his tea. 

Yuuri had initially protested when Viktor started serving him tea like this, and Viktor  _ had _ remembered once or twice after each demur objection that Yuuri preferred his tea plain. But the moment Viktor got distracted he defaulted to the idea that Yuuri would like everything he liked. There were some moments it was frustrating, but over the months Yuuri had started finding it endearing. Because he did love Viktor, and there was a deep passion that drove him to love what Viktor loved. Old habits died hard. 

And now? The sweet, lemony warmth just reminded him of Viktor’s kisses, and Yuuri treasured the taste for that alone. He cradled the mug and let the heat fog his glasses. 

Yuuri happily watched Viktor through the steam. 

“Coffee too?” Viktor asked casually, throwing a dishtowel over his shoulder like he was in a magazine. It was endearing the way a thousand gestures that would have been calculated - might have been calculated, at one time - had become his way of moving through the world. 

Yuuri nodded.

Viktor always moved like he was dancing, even to just turn on the espresso machine. The burr grinder churned to life and from the other room Yuuri heard Makkachin’s predictable yelp as the dog ran for the cover at the loud noise. Yuuri hid a smile behind his mug of too-sweet tea. It really was starting to feel like home here. 

The heady scent of fresh-ground coffee joined the scent of the frying syrniki. Yuuri remembered the initial days of being intimidated by Viktor’s insistence on the best, whether it was in clothing, furnishings, or the type of coffee he bought, but he didn’t mind the results. 

Especially not when it was his fiance putting the effort into a delicious breakfast. Yuuri thought he’d never get tired of watching Viktor skate - it seemed to translate to everything though. Yuuri would ever get tired of watching Vicktor. Period. 

“This is one of my favourite breakfasts,” Viktor was saying, bent over the frying pan to flip over the circles of dough. 

“What’s in it?” Yuuri asked, mostly to keep Viktor talking. He loved the way Viktor’s voice sounded - especially when it wasn’t listing. 

“Cheese, egg - lots of protein!” Viktor almost chirped as he finished.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at a familiar tone edging into Viktor’s words. “Hey….” he said, stretching out on leg to nudge Viktor’s side. Viktor turned and let himself be drawn back in close to Yuuri. “No coach-talk on rest days….” Yuuri chided Viktor sleepily. He leaned down to rest his forehead on Victor’s, his strong thighs holding Viktor in close; affectionate even when his hands were occupied. 

“I was trying to deceive myself though,” Viktor laughed lightly, relenting. “They’re not so healthy… full of sugar too. And I’ll be putting sour cream on top, maybe jam for you though?” he considered.  

Yuuri nuzzled into the side of Viktor’s face and neck, half wishing they were still in bed. “Mmm. Show me what you like best…” he murmured, echoing words he’d heard from Viktor several times in many different situations. One of Viktor’s hands moved up to caress his neck lightly, because in Viktor’s other hand he still held….  “Are… are you using chopsticks?” Yuuri squinted, even through his glasses. 

Viktor laughed and pulled away, back to his cooking. He was so single-minded sometimes. Although Yuuri himself was completely entranced by the elegant, Russian hands using the chopsticks so skillfully to flip the frying cakes, so maybe he shouldn’t judge. “I learned some things from your mother…” Viktor admitted. “She wouldn’t let me use a spatula when I was in the kitchen.”

Yuuri struggled to make sense of that. When Viktor had left for Japan without him, his family had taken extra care of him at Yuuri’s own urging but… “She let you cook?” 

Viktor beamed up at Yuuri in reply. “It took some convincing.”

Yuuri spent a long moment trying to reconcile Viktor being ‘convincing’ in the little broken Japanese he knew with that with the memories of his mother chasing him out of the kitchen whenever he got close. Although, admittedly, even before he’d left for the States, that hadn’t been too often. 

“That’s…surprising...” Yuuri murmured, unable to find a better word.  

Viktor hummed contentedly at that, moving perfectly-browned pancakes to a plate hidden in the sleek chrome oven. While his back was turned Yuuri quickly set the tea aside. More batter was poured into the hot pan, the oil snapping lightly.

He pulled a leg up onto the counter so he could rest his cheek on it. There was one word that did come to mind though. 

Bliss. 

  
He’d never thought he would associate mornings with something this wonderful. 


End file.
